Life's a bleach

Daniel Thwaites, Contributor

If the PIOJ measured triviality and narcissism as well as they chart inflation, economic growth, and devaluation, I suspect we would learn that there's been lots and lots of growth over the years since Independence.

I watched TVJ's 'All Angles' with my jaw on the floor as it upended much of what I had previously thought about skin bleaching. Previously, I had pretty much accepted the official King James Version of Bleaching (KJVB), namely, that the legacy of plantation slavery had created victims who more or less secretly prize the social power of whiteness or brownness, and who, in ignorance of the physical dangers of bleaching, manipulate themselves to achieve as much whiteness as they can.

Some parts of the programme genuflected to the KJVB, but the charismatic bleachers tell a different story. They are very clear about the frivolity of 'rubbing', and that they're pursuing a style, a fashion. "True or false? Throouuuugh!" All were resolutely in charge of what they were doing to their bodies, but as the irrepressible Monica put it, they bleach to "look likkle brightish!"

So here are people, despite acknowledged danger, methodically and inventively scraping their skins off. All were aware that it posed serious health risks and spoke freely of fungal infections, skin splitting, burning, and even death. All spoke of enduring discomfort. Moreover, all were aware that the more powerful 'society', which according to the KJVB is the terrible engine of self-loathing, doesn't want them doing it.

In fact, some bemoaned that it would result in social censure and actual discrimination from the work world: y'know, that little matter of making a living. Bleaching actually impedes their employment prospects and economic well-being.

Everyone has to know

So why do it? Because it makes you "more attrack", said Jamie, who also let on that in his particular case he did it out of pure perversion, because being a selector, his t'ing was hot and already more attrack. As far as I could gather, the cartoonish visibility of being a bleacher was a way of vaunting conspicuous consumption over others who cannot afford to bleach. The important thing is that everyone knows you are bleaching, Dr Donna Hope helpfully explained.

One expert, 'Noogle', attributed bleaching to her career as a cosmetologist: "Yuh haffi have a image fi draw de crowd; fi navigate de people dem." Hence, bleaching was a marketing decision in her niche industry, like a restaurant hanging expensive artwork to attrack upscale customers. Again: consumption.

Then there are parties. Unforgettable Wingie spoke of monthlong preparations for a dance, much like I imagine ancient peoples might scrupulously prepare for a religious ritual. Noogle explained "ketchin' a colour for Christmas".

Wealthier women, we were told, "tone". But this isn't a class issue, at least not in any straightforward way. Bleaching concoctions and potions don't come cheap, and was estimated to be around $8,000 per month. The cost of 'toning', which seems to be the retarded half-hearted cousin of bleaching, wasn't explored, but I doubt the cost is dissimilar, if as much. Skin bleaching is a sport for those with expendable income.

These are not victims. Knowing very well the triviality and inadvisability of the whole circus of bleaching, Annette discontinued the practice upon becoming pregnant because, while at ease with risking herself, she didn't feel comfortable harming her child. In that simple manoeuvre, we discover not only a vestigial trace of good sense and sound judgement, but also of responsibility for the previous rubbish decision to bleach.

Dr Neil Persadsingh predicted that in the near future, "we will be seeing an explosion of cancers of the skin", and Dr Hope assured that "people are aware of the dangers". I don't think bleachers want society's sympathy, and they certainly don't deserve very much of it.

A very basic piece of my mental geography is sympathy for people who suffer evils over which they have no control. Although that sympathy doesn't immediately dry up, it begins to evaporate pretty quickly the more people are the authors of their circumstances. I don't say that this is always an easy position to defend, but like granite beneath a Manhattan skyscraper, it is the bedrock behind all sorts of other judgements about people and the world. Out of it we have evolved a social consensus, however imperfectly applied, that a man is rightly judged by his actions, not by his ethnicity or colour.

'Skin Bleacher Registry'

Since The Gleaner reports that Minister of Health, Dr Fenton Ferguson, is canvassing for ideas about the health sector, I propose a 'Skin Bleacher Registry', where doctors can record the names and identification of those who choose to chemically disfigure themself.

The cost of treating all cancers derivative from the bleaching should be borne by the bleachers and not socialised through the public health system.

I feel the same way about cigarettes. They ought to be so heavily taxed that the contribution of smokers to the public coffers covers, with ample amounts left over for pain and suffering, the burden they place on the whole society.

Bleachers deploy many products that have alternative uses and, therefore, cannot be targeted for punitive taxation in the same way as cigarettes, so my registry is to do what Noogle said: "fi navigate de people dem".

Curiously, having ruined her skin in pursuit of this empty vanity, Monica angrily lashed out against employers who disregard character and discriminate against people who bleach, tattoo and pierce. Without a trace of irony, she pointed out the superficiality of tending so carefully to outward appearances at the expense of loftier inward qualities.

She may be right. Then again, it might be of interest to an employer as a reflection of deeper turbidity in the soul if someone takes pains, encounters dangers, and goes to elaborate lengths to present society with a big 'Eff You'. Oh, but the unfairness of it all if society actually 'gets' the insult and reacts accordingly. What can I say? Life's a bleach and then you die.

Daniel Thwaites is a partner of Thwaites Law Firm in Jamaica, and Thwaites, Lundgren & D'Arcy in New York. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.